A Spider Without Fangs
by Cale017
Summary: Decades after the original Spiderman has retired, his grandchildren have separated across the country. Bad blood has made the strands connecting them weaker, and Jacob Parker has given up the life of a hero. But when Alexia Parker, the current Spiderwoman, vanishes, Jacob returns to New York City to wear the suit he'd left behind.


[I'm re-uploaded an edited version of the first chapter of this story to change a few aspects involve and better solidify how I want the character to interact with his world. Apologies.]

"The sudden disappearance of the Spiderwoman over three months ago still has local authorities baffled. As yet there have been no public demands made for her safety, no ransoms delivered, no statements made by whatever group abducted her. The circumstances surrounding her kidnapping remain unclear, and Stark Industries has demanded to take over the investigation via their own means, citing a lack of dedication in the police force, many of whom still harbor doubts as to the true motives of the Spider family. Since Spiderman's public retirement nearly a decade ago, Spiderwoman has been one of the beacons of hope for many in the city. Her disappearance hearkens many back to the manner in which the second Spiderman also vanished some eight years ago only to reappear in the wake of Spiderwoman's absence. While some in the city still believe the Spiders to be a potential threat, over fifty years of protection from the family, whoever they are, has left a strong impression in the minds of New Yorkers everywhere. Some are afraid of what power could have possibly taken her, others angry at a seeming betrayal, but all are wondering:

Where has the Spiderwoman gone?"

New York City. It was the same as it had been when he'd left it eight years ago, still only 16, making his way West to California. The skyline scraped across the sky during the day, and during the night the disparate lights in buildings stretched upwards until they blended with the stars above.

The answering machine beeped, a phantom call playing in the background as the news ended. "Jacob, it's me." Sam. His agent. "I know how important this is to you, but how long do you plan to be away?"

The mutation had skipped his parents. At first, Grandpa Peter had been happy. Happy that his children wouldn't have to face the same burdens that he had. Happy that his children wouldn't have to lay their lives on the line for a city that would detest and adore them in equal measure. Happy that the curse had ended with him.

"It's been a month now, Jacob." Another voicemail. He and Sam had a system. Nothing online, too easy to track. Landlines were archaic at best, but in a world gone technological, they were also safer. Sure they were easier to tap, but who would think to? You ran a line in private, and most low level hackers wouldn't even know where to look for one anymore. "Have you picked up any leads? What about Stark? There are bigger fish who can fry way more than you can, man. You need to come back, people are asking too many questions and no one believes you've been sick this long. Give me a call when you get a chance."

But it hadn't. Instead the altered genes had lain dormant in his parents until he and his sister were born. Twin spiders, hatched from the same egg. They would have been practically identical if not for the gender and hair. He had a few inches on his sister, but while she had vibrant red hair his was a simple brown, like his grandfather's. At first, it seemed they were perfectly normal. Until his sister had been found outside of their crib, on a ceiling. She'd always been the first to get things right.

"Jacob, there's nothing you can do." Sam was a good friend. The only person outside of his family circle, the generations immediately preceding his and a few old friends of his grandfather's, who knew the secret. He kept it well. "Look, we had to tell the publishers that you were too stressed from the deadlines of your last one, and needed some time to recuperate. They're chalking it up to writer's block, but at least they're not calling anymore. If you don't sort things out quick and get back here, they might never call again though. It's not just your career on the line. Family is important, but I was under the impression you moved across the country to get away from that. Call me back. Please."

It hadn't just skipped a generation, either. The mutation had evolved. Adapted. They were stronger, faster, their spider senses more acute. The crippling weakness to pesticides had subsided somewhat, now more of an intense nausea and a migraine, but by no means entirely debilitating. It took a massive dose to put them out of commission for any length of time, and their healing factor was enough to help them get over the worst of it. That had come with a much higher metabolism, but it was a small price to pay for such power. Having to eat more wasn't the price that Jacob refused to pay, though.

Grandpa Parker had taken them both under his wing. There was no way around them having their powers, and the old family motto had become the grindstone Jacob's nose was pressed against through his childhood and into his teenage years. "With great power comes great responsibility." It sounded good on paper, but what did it mean in reality? Peter had gone where he wasn't allowed, and received a radioactive spider bite that altered his DNA. It had been his own fault, and he'd spent the rest of his life trying to atone for not stopping the murder of his uncle when he'd had a chance. But Jacob and Alexia? They had simply been thrust into the role based on their genetics. Alexia had taken to it like a spider to web, but Jacob? While Alexia had been awed by stories of Peter's heroic escapades, Jacob had always hung on the darker side of it. Seen the flickers of pain in his grandfather's eyes talking about loves lost, and friends left. Battles that spanned the barriers of time and space were enough to get Alexia to double down on her training, but seeing the effects they'd had on Peter had only made Jacob fall farther behind. Alexia had always been that little bit stronger, that little bit faster, maybe because she was female. It was a well known fact amongst arachnophiles that the females of the species ate the males in most cases. They were bigger, stronger, less prone to weakness.

Making his own money on books had given Jacob a life of lavish excess, for a writer at least. He could travel in secret if he wanted to, and could afford apartments that ensured that secrecy remained paramount. Here, atop a building in the center of the city, he was just another rich schlub with too much money to his name. The staff kept quiet about who owned the place, and he'd bought out the level beneath him just to make sure that there was little chance of anyone overhearing any of his activities.

He walked past a board stretched across one of the walls of his penthouse suite. Newspaper clippings stretched across the surface, tied with bits of different colored yarn wrapped around pins in the cork. Names of gangs, their leaders, old affiliates, villains who were still active, new faces who had arrived. Many sported suped up versions of the suits their parents or inspirations had worn. Clearly it didn't require a mutation in your base genes to pass on insanity.

Their suits had been the pinnacle of Stark Industries technology. Able to hack into almost any security, resistant to bladed weapons and small caliber weaponry, with tactile sensors across the entire surface that didn't dampen their sense of touch while climbing. Optics that could help them to focus in spite of their enhanced sight, earpieces that could provide communication or filter out white noise. Making them just that little bit quicker to process the overload of sensory information their powers could sometimes slam them with, calibrated year after year as they grew. Stark had even added in nano web shooters when designing them; they could hold much more webbing material as the devices were able to produce incredibly efficiently, and incredibly strong webs. Grandpa Peter and Tony Stark had worked on the technology together, using Peter's original formula as the blueprint for the structure of their webbing, making it as strong as the original with the added benefit of being able to switch between a conductive and insulated chemical structures.

Sliding open the door to his balcony, Jacob strode out, the sounds of the city distant on the winds, far below, but still able to be analyzed and picked apart by his sensitive ears. The changing air currents, thrown about as they crash and collide and swirl among the towering cityscape, moved across his skin in small rivulets and he could feel each and every one. He had to in order to move. Swinging through the air at over 60 miles an hour sounded amazing, but a normal person wouldn't be able to handle the sort of minute alterations you had to make to your position, using air resistance to angle yourself from swing to swing, or to predict when along the arc, in what direction, and how fast you had to launch yourself to make it through an alleyway crowded with fire exits or crash through a window a few stories up from where you were already. And all that was if you weren't slingshotting yourself over a hundred miles an hour, compounding all of those issues over again. They were stronger, faster, better than Peter could have ever hoped to be, and their brains were so much more powerful to compensate. Their training had been over at only 14, when there was nothing more for Peter to teach them.

Alexia had taken to the city like it had never been their Grandfather's territory in the first place. For a time, Jacob too had enjoyed the work. Sure, there had been detractors. The Daily Bugle, in spite of Jameson having stepped down some thirty years before, still found ways to spin anything they did negatively. But the people had supported them. Spiderman had saved their mothers, fathers, children, pets. Their lives, their world. Some in the police force still thought of them as vigilantes, but decades of superhero intervention in cities around the world had somewhat lessened the way the government treated them. And there were plenty of "secret" weapons ready to be called in at any moment to handle heroes gone bad. Jacob had met a few of them, nice guys. Shame the ones with some dumbed down super soldier serum couldn't get drunk effectively, although he could rarely enjoy more than a good buzz.

Together the two of them had saved lives. Stopped fires, delivered people to hospitals. He'd seen chalk drawings of himself on the sidewalks, and seen the newsreels showing how he'd rushed in at the last moment to catch a flipping car, or web a thug's gun up before he could fire it. Alone he was effective. Together they were unstoppable. But Alexia had always been there just a little bit beforehand. Always faster, always stronger.

And a day had come when he hadn't been fast enough. When Alexia had been busy dealing with the rest of a gang of kidnappers while Jacob had tried to rescue the hostage. They had never stood a chance against her, but faced with the singular gang member, and his itchy trigger finger, Jacob had faltered. His spider senses had warned him of danger, but there was an important lesson that Grandpa Spider had taught them: not to think about it first. If your senses went off, you just moved. Doubting them, doubting yourself, made you helpless.

He could still remember the spray of blood as the man had shot through the woman's back to get at him. A second gun, too small to be effective against his suit but more than enough to sever the spine and burst the organs of the woman he'd been holding. The splash of scarlet against his crimson suit, staining the blue patches a darkened violet. The woman slumping to the ground as he finally let his body take over, pulling the man over with a well placed web shot and planting his fist against the thug's face. Too hard. The sickening crunch of his neck snapping backwards still haunted Jacob's nightmares. When Alexia had found him, Jacob had simply been knelt on the floor, his mask in his hands, and he'd looked up at her.

And then he'd run. Back to his parent's house while his sister dealt with the police. Past his mother, wondering where Alexia was. Past his father, demanding to know what was wrong. Up to his room to pack a suitcase, leaving behind his stained suit on the floor as he leapt from a window and found himself at a train station. Then in California, where he'd started a new life for himself away from it all. Away from the burdens of being a Spider. Away from where the people he cared about were at risk. Away from where he was expected to fulfill a title he hadn't asked for. Away from where he'd caused the loss of two lives.

He'd ignored the calls. The letters and emails, left vague. Promises that it wasn't his fault. Sympathetic friends of his grandfather's, ones who had faced similar guilt-ridden situations in the past. Stark had sent him money with a small note assuring him that he just needed time and he'd be back in action, and that the loan didn't need to be repaid. That they all understood, and Alexia could take care of things. Eventually the calls had stopped. He'd used the money from Stark to start up his series of books. He'd become a respected author, and his sister had become the second in command of Stark Industries during the day, and a hero at night.

And then she'd vanished. And like a fool, Jacob had come running back. His sister had fought intergalactic threats, closed rifts in dimensions, and saved kittens from trees, all on her own. But the moment she went missing, Jacob had packed his bags and come running back. He knew Alexia too well, knew that she couldn't just be taken off guard like that. All the way back to New York, Jacob had heard his grandfather's voice in his head, reminding him to listen to his gut when things got rough. A part of him wanted to believe that he had learned that lesson, but the spray of blood reminded him that he hadn't. Jacob hadn't come running back because of some mutant spider sense.

Jacob had come back to the city because in spite of his sister being faster, stronger, more agile, a better fighter. In spite of his jealousy at her prowess. In spite of his hatred for what he was expected to be, above all else, Jacob was the older of the two of them. Not by much, not more than a few moments. But that was enough. No amount of superhuman powers could compare to the protective urges of an older brother.

It hadn't taken long after his arrival in New York for Stark to figure out he was back, and then where he was staying. The old codger at least had the good sense of mind to give Jacob his distance. So far as he could tell, the aging CEO hadn't even informed his family that he was back. But a package had been delivered do his door, containing a red and blue suit, his old one and a small note. "Figured out your size from your last video interview. Should fit alright, but come by if it needs to be tailored. You didn't look too out of shape, kid."

And just like that Spiderman was back. Only in the dark corners, only out of necessity. Or so he told himself. Just long enough to find his sister. Just enough activity to keep the criminal element at bay. Just one more lead. Just one more swing through the city.

"Jacob, I've seen the stories." Sam, somewhere between distraught and furious. "How long are you going to keep this up? Because we can't, Jacob. You need to give us something. An update, a rough draft of a chapter. A goddamn paragraph, just give us anything. And do it soon."

He walked back inside, sitting down at the hardwood desk set against the opposite wall from the tangled mass of yarn supposedly tracking his sister but leading nowhere. A mangled web of intrigue without direction or architecture. The screen blinked on, and a bare page held only the blinking cursor at the top left, waiting to scroll across the line. After a long minute of staring at the page, willing any idea to come to him, a horror, a thriller, a fantasy, some pirates for pity's sake, anything at all, Jacob gave up again and leaned back in his chair, glancing at the phone.

Before he could pick it up to give Sam a call, the phone rang again. Assuming it was his confidant, Jacob reached over and picked it up, apologizing immediately. "Sam, I'm sorry alright? I-"

"What're you doin' back in town, kid?" A gruff voice, almost animalistic. An old family friend, and one of the few who had openly mocked him for running. "You're in over yer head, bub."

Jacob wanted to slam the phone back down, but restrained himself. "You know why I'm back, Logan."

"Yeah, and scarin' away all my leads while yer at it!" He could practically feel the spit flying at his face from over the line. "I've been tailin' yer sister fer months now and you come in and ruin it all!"

"If its taken you this long, maybe your sniffer's not as good as it used to be, old man."

"It's good enough to sniff out where yer stayin, kiddo," the threat all but drooled out. "Ya wanna come back and play with the big boys? Fine. But yer rusty at best, Jacob. Stick to the street gangs and let the professionals handle Alexia."

Jacob was silent for a moment, on the razor edge between agreeing with Logan and rebelling against him. By all measure, the badger was right. Jacob hadn't been active in eight years, hadn't trained at any point during that time. He was probably a liability for anyone searching out Alexia.

But that feeling in his gut nagged at him. Something was off. Something that the others would never see. There was no way to describe the sensation to someone who'd never lain on a web. The feeling of movement plucking the strings, the discordant notes forming some off key harmony, eventually cascading into one larger symphony. They could see the strings, but they couldn't __feel__ them.

Right now, Jacob felt that he had to be here. "Sorry," he chuckled into the phone, looking at the suit laying on his couch. "I'll make sure to tell Alexia you were very concerned when I find her."

He could hear the roar of anger, he picked up on the curse word forming on the other end, he could even hear the faint snikt before the line went dead, probably sliced to pieces in Logan's fury.

Jacob slid the suit on with a small hesitance, finding that it fit him as good as always in spite of how much his body had grown since his departure. Stark had done his job well, but that was always Tony's strong suit. Almost to a fault, but in this case Jacob thanked his lucky stars. There weren't many of those for the Parker family, so you had to learn to pick them out in a crowd.

Then he walked back outside to his balcony and hopped up on the ledge of the railing, looking down over the city. There was no vertigo, no sensation of fear. All of that had been trained out of him long ago. Even if he had forgotten the specifics, his instincts still remembered and his muscles knew what to do. It would take him some time, but the benefit of being a spider was a mixed blessing in the end. You learned to go with your gut, for better or worse, and he had learned the consequences of not doing so. Some would say that your gut telling you to fall forwards off of a 60 story penthouse suite was a bad call, but as the roaring of the wind filled his ears, the lit windows flashing past his face faster and faster, his muscles tensing in preparation, Jacob was filled with one, overriding thought.

His sister was out there somewhere, and everyone else had failed to find her.


End file.
